Hold Me
by ladyoftheknightley
Summary: Romilda Vane is up late one night finishing her Arithmancy essay, but her mind is not wholly on task... [For the Points & Prompts comp]


_Hello! First, a note to my regular readers (!) this __**is **__canon, I'm just enjoying playing about. This isn't smutty, but it's probably the smuttiest thing I've ever written (if that makes sense) so if that's not your cup of tea, I completely understand and I'll see you later. This is written for the Points and Prompts Competition, using prompts 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7 and 11. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I wish. (And also have v. specific wishes about Ron Weasley as you may be able to tell from below. Um.)_

* * *

Romilda Vane _hated_ Arithmancy, and not just because there weren't any cute boys in the class. Professor Vector had set them yet another ridiculous essay to complete and she'd actually had the nerve to take Romilda aside at the end of the class and warn her that if she didn't buck her ideas up and get a decent grade on this essay, she was in danger of failing the entire course. Which was a _joke_. Seriously, the woman should just get herself laid and then perhaps she'd stop taking her frustrations out on poor innocent students, Romilda thought vindictively.

Perhaps, though, she could look into getting her a boyfriend—or a girlfriend if that was what she was into, Romilda wasn't judgey—and then maybe she'd slack off with the homework? But also, there was _no one_ who had enough time to find Professor Vector a potential paramour, and Romilda still had to think about her own plans to win Harry Potter over. Though he only seemed to have eyes for Ginny Weasley these days, which was terribly disappointing. She'd soon make him change his mind though...

Yes...

A sudden noise made her jump, and she looked up to find Nearly Headless Nick drifting through the wall. He inclined his head at her, then drifted on in his ghostly fashion, and once again she was left alone. She shook herself. It was _definitely_ time to be getting on with this essay. She tried to promise herself she'd never leave things this late again, but the other day had found her writing her Transfiguration homework at the breakfast table before her first period class, so she knew she couldn't even fool herself there.

Romilda yawned. It was seriously depressing to be the last person in the Common Room at night, when even the magical fire was in danger of going out, working on a piece of homework. Stupid Arithmancy.

No! She couldn't let herself get distracted. It was time to do some proper work. She reached over for her textbook, which she'd placed on the table in front of her, and knocked something on the floor. Picking it up, she realised it was a hat—a rather bizarre looking leather cap type thing, with...ear flaps?! It was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen, and that included some of Professor McGonagall's more alarming tartan outfits. Who on earth would wear such a thing? She checked the name tape inside.

Ron Weasley.

Ohh, that explained things: it was clearly part of the Quidditch uniform. She should have known—the Quidditch uniforms were pretty unsexy things. Which was a shame, because the Quidditch players themselves could often be quite sexy. Especially Ron Weasley. In fact, now she came to think about it, he might be even hotter than Harry Potter. He was certainly more muscular...

Sternly, she broke that thought off and told herself to focus on her Arithmancy essay. But it had been such a nice thought, and it was so cosy in the Common Room... Romilda felt her eyes closing, and...

_No, she had to work on this Arithmancy essay. Or at least start it. She pulled her parchment towards her, and tried to begin, but a sudden noise made her turn, and she saw Ron himself at the foot of the stairs to the boys' dorms. She watched him cross the room until he was only inches from her, and he bent down to pick up his hat, giving her a very nice view of the outline of his arse in his pyjama bottoms as he did so._

_He turned quickly and caught her staring at it. Ron raised an eyebrow, and Romilda responded by shrugging her shoulders. She certainly wouldn't apologise for looking at _that _bum... Ron gave a snort of laughter, turning away to go upstairs, but feeling bold, she reached over and grabbed his hand._

_He didn't say anything, but sat down on the sofa next to her, giving her a questioning look. She studied his face in detail. There was no doubt about it, he was _very _good looking. And muscular...and topless! She blushed slightly. How had she not noticed those abs before?!_

_Ron had obviously caught her looking, for he reached over and tilted her chin up with both hands. She took one look into those beautiful blue eyes and her already weakened resolve failed entirely. She leaned over and kissed him, oh so gently at first, but then harder, and harder and harder still, his lips against hers the most delicious thing she had ever felt. Ron responded, kissing her back fiercely and running his hands up and down her body. He pushed against her until she was lying flat on her back with his weight pinning her down on the sofa—something that should have been painful but instead was the most wonderful thing she had ever __felt._

_Ron's skin was warm against hers, and suddenly she wasn't wearing her shirt, either and it was just skin on skin on skin as he peppered her face and neck and shoulders with kisses. She wrapped her legs around his, grinding against him and he let out a low, guttural moan which made her gasp with pleasure. They moved together, kissing all the while, and all she could feel was Ron just all over her and _how _had she never considered him before?! His strong arms held her oh-so-tightly; the stubble on his face scratched hers in the best way and he most definitely knew what he was doing with those lips._

_She moved harder and faster against him, both of them saying nothing but occasionally letting out a moan and then the lights behind her eyes exploded and she lay there panting, as he dropped gentle kisses on her closed eyes, the tip of her nose, her forehead..._

_Romilda breathed in deeply. She opened her eyes to see Ron looking down at her, grinning lazily. She smiled back, and rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes again. There seemed no need for words..._

A sudden crash made her open her eyes hurriedly. Her Arithmancy textbook was on the floor...and she was fully clothed. _How_ disappointing.

She sat up on the sofa, catching sight, as she did so, of her flushed face in the mirror hanging on the wall opposite. Romilda smirked. It had been a pleasant interlude, if nothing else—and it had helped her get over Harry Potter. She had someone else in her sights, now.

Fifteen minutes later, having hastily scrawled all she knew about Arithmancy across two sides of parchment Professor Vector be damned, she picked up Ron Weasley's Quidditch cap and threw it in her schoolbag along with her books. May as well have a memento, she reasoned.

(Nearly-Headless Nick, who had drifted back into the room, eyed her very strangely for several days afterward.)

* * *

_So, yeah, this is maybe the most random thing I've ever written. Hey ho!_


End file.
